HOBSON. I won't wash my hands. I don't hold with such finicking ways, and well you know it. (_Sits in front of counter_.) VICKEY. Father, have you heard the news about our Maggie? (_Down_ R. C.) HOBSON. News? There is no news. It's the same old tale. Uppishness. You'd keep a starving man from the meat he earns in the sweat of his brow, would you? I'll put you in your places. I'll--(_Rises_.) MAGGIE. Don't lose your temper, father. You'll maybe need it soon when Vickey speaks. (_Moves down_ R.) HOBSON. What's Vickey been doing? VICKEY. Nothing. It's about Will Mossop, father. HOBSON. Will? ALICE. Yes. What's your opinion of Will? HOBSON. A decent lad. I've nowt against him that I know of. ALICE. Would you like him in the family? HOBSON. Whose family? (_Coming down_ C.) VICKEY. Yours. MAGGIE. I'm going to marry Willie, father. That's what all the fuss is about. HOBSON. Marry--you--Mossop? (_Moves to her_.) MAGGIE. You thought me past the marrying age. I'm not. That's all. HOBSON. Didn't you hear me say I'd do the choosing when it came to a question of husbands? MAGGIE. You said I was too old to get a husband. HOBSON. You are. You all are. VICKEY. Father! HOBSON. (_crossing to_ C.) And if you're not, it makes no matter. I'll have no husbands here. (VICKEY R., ALICE L. _of_ HOBSON.) ALICE. But you said-- HOBSON. I've changed my mind. I've learnt some things since then. There's a lot too much expected of a father nowadays. There'll be no weddings here. ALICE. Oh, father! HOBSON (_taking them down_). Go and get my dinner served and talk less. Go on now. I'm not in right temper to be crossed. (_He drives_ ALICE _and_ VICKEY _before him. They go out protesting loudly. But MAGGIE stands in his way as he follows and she closes the door. She looks at him from the stair_.) MAGGIE. You and I 'ull be straight with one another, father. I'm not a fool and you're not a fool, and things may as well be put in their places as left untidy. HOBSON. I tell you my mind's made up. You can't have Willie Mossop. Why, lass, his father was a workhouse brat. A come-by-chance. (_Moves_ C.) MAGGIE. It's news to me we're snobs in Salford. I have Willie Mossop. I've to settle my life's course, and a good course, too, so think on. HOBSON. I'd be the laughing-stock of the place if I allowed it. I won't have it, Maggie. It's hardly decent at your time of life. MAGGIE. I'm thirty and I'm marrying Willie Mossop. And now I'll tell you my terms. HOBSON. You're in a nice position to state terms, my lass. MAGGIE. You will pay my man, Will Mossop, the same wages as before. And as for me, I've given you the better part of twenty years of work without wages. I'll work eight hours a day in future and you will pay me fifteen shillings by the week. HOBSON. Do you think I'm made of brass? MAGGIE. You'll soon be made of less than you are if you let Willie go. And if Willie goes, I go. That's what you've got to face.